


Bobbing For Apples

by lindsey_grissom



Category: Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-22
Updated: 2008-08-22
Packaged: 2017-10-10 14:52:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/100978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindsey_grissom/pseuds/lindsey_grissom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>That her first semi-rational thought was for her former boss, spoke to just how badly she had failed in moving on from Paris</i>.  Something comes into Andy's possession that could ruin the Dragon Lady.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Andy Sachs?"

Andy looked up from behind her screen, peeling her eyes away from the text with some reluctance. She had been working at _The Mirror_ for six months and still she hadn't had even one of her articles make it higher than page twenty, beneath the weather forecast for the day. That had caused quite a celebration back home, her Father said, and the article had been framed and hung on her old bedroom wall. Still, she lived in hope that this one would make it to at least page ten.

The problem wasn't her writing; she knew she had a way with words that made many of her colleagues jealous, but she still wasn't high in the pecking order, and for a relatively small newspaper like _The Mirror_ this often left her covering the newest donated park bench, and on one memorable occasion, the hunger strike of the homeless man who lived on the corner just outside her apartment block.

This week, though, there was an addition to the paper in the form of a new and barely out of college journalist by the name of Ted Drewry. Or 'TeeDee' as he introduced himself.

At this point, Andy would be glad to call him anything his heart desired, for his arrival meant that her own position got bumped up and she was able to pick, _actually pick_, from an assortment of slightly more interesting topics. After months of substandard work, she finally had to use her brain again. It was proving to be entirely too hard to switch into gear.

It was for this reason that when Andy finally did pull her eyes away from her article, she narrowed them in a glare at the one stupid enough to shout her name.

"Yeah?" Good elocution had been lost sometime in the last three months too; Emily and Nigel would be horrified to see how far she'd fallen. And that was without even touching on her clothes.

A junior journalist for _The Mirror_ couldn't even afford to say the words _'Gucci', 'Prada'_ and _'Manolo'_. It was the last she felt the loss of most. Her poor feet hadn't known what hit them, when she'd slipped them out of _Blahniks_ one day and into _DocMartins_ the next.

TeeDee stared back at her, his mouth turned up in a smug smile that was amplified by his eyes. His own assignment had been the opening of yet another Thrift store, nothing about that should have produced such a look. Or a his apparent level of excitement. Andy felt a tightening in her stomach she hadn't felt since Paris. She just _knew_ what ever he said next wouldn't bode well for her.

"Don't get used too used to that article, Sachs, because I've got something here that's going to have you back writing about park fountains by tomorrow morning." The arrogance was another mark against him, the first fifteen she had written on a small piece of note paper in her top drawer.

It began with; 'greases his hair' and ended with; 'puts on a terrible fake English accent'. The last, only she seemed to have noticed, but then, no one else had worked for almost a year with Emily.

"Don't tell me, you've found the face of God in an old shawl." A few of the others in the office chuckled; Andy would have been buoyed by this, if she didn't know it was simply the way the newbie was always treated at first.

Sometimes she found herself seriously concerned that journalists had become bitchier than their fashion-based peers. It was a scary thought best left to the dead of night.

Drewry's smile grew even wider and the sinking feeling intensified. Andy was glad to already be sitting down, it seemed like one of those moments when having a chair close at hand was necessary.

"No, what I have here is a copy, possibly the only copy of 'Whips, Chains and Two Smoking Hookers.'"

Andy stared at him in disbelief; she'd been getting worried, for that?

"Um, Ted, I hate to be the one to tell you this, since I'm sure your parents meant to and just didn't get around to it. But, pornography isn't really newsworthy material anymore. Not since the fifties. You can pick it up at pretty much every video store in New York."

Rolling her eyes at the man, Andy returned her attention to her article, finished with wasting her time. She was pretty sure most of the other writers had returned to their work too.

"Thanks Sachs, for that oh so educational lesson, but tell me, do all these other videos have the Editor of the premiere fashion magazine on the back cover?"

Andy's heart thudded once against her rib cage and then froze. She could not have just heard what she thought she heard. It wasn't possible. Maybe he meant a different Editor, a different magazine. Just because she, and most of America thought _Runway_ was 'the' fashion magazine didn't mean that a little upstart like TeeDee did.

Forcing her lungs to take a deep breath, Andy raised her eyes again.

"Excuse me?" Her heart gave that odd single thud again at the expression of sheer glee on Drewry's face.

"I think you heard me well enough, Sachs. This video here." He waved the offending item in his left hand, and began to walk slowly over to where Andy sat. "This little one-in-twelve-million video, appears to have a friend of yours on the cover. Don't tell me you've forgotten your old boss so quickly. And here, I was led to believe that Miranda Priestly was unforgettable." He put Andy in mind of a shark. She wanted to see him gutted and hanging from a line.

She was sure there were some things she should be saying. Certain that she should be doing something more productive than staring in shock at the arrogant man in front of her. But her mind seemed to have taken over from her suddenly pounding heart and had gotten caught on a repeated loop of; Oh my god. _Oh my god._

_Ohmygodohmygodohmygod._

Drewry was laughing at her inaction, and the others were crowding around him and taking turns to look at the video. As it passed hands right across her face, she saw it. The picture that had obviously caught Drewry's attention.

It was unmistakably Miranda, a young and blonde Miranda. A young, _blonde_, dressed in leather and holding a whip Miranda. But still undeniably Miranda 'Ice Queen' Priestly.

The picture left her sight, and Andy's attention snapped back into focus. Miranda. _Oh shit, Miranda!_

That her first semi-rational thought was for her former boss, and how this would affect her and the girls, _the girls_, and not for how her own career had just gone into recession, spoke to just how badly she had failed in moving on after Paris. In forgetting _Runway_, Miranda and where her loyalties had lain for almost a year.

"What are you going to do?" Her voice was steady, unlike her hands; she tucked them under her desk.

"Why, Sachs, I'm going to watch it, of course, and then write a small piece on it. Don't you think our corner of New York deserves to know a little more about our beloved Queen of Fashion?"

At this point, Andy would have reminded Ted that _The Mirror_ was supposed to be a serious newspaper and not a tabloid, except her Editor was currently fawning over the video case as though it held all the secrets to Midas's touch.

There was nothing she, a lowly junior, could say that would make these men keep this quiet. This was going to happen, Miranda would wake up tomorrow morning to see her past spread across the front page of _The Mirror_, would undoubtedly be plagued with the rest of the press as she left the townhouse, and then be faced with _Runway_ and Irv on top of it all. And there was nothing Andy could do to stop it. Even after all this time, failing Miranda felt worse than failing herself.

Andy paused. There was nothing she could do to stop the article being published, unless she killed the entire newsroom which wasn't sounding as bad as it probably should. She couldn't stop it going to print, but she could make sure Miranda knew about it now. She could warn Miranda, hopefully lessen the shock of it somehow. She didn't know, it might even give Miranda enough time to pull out a miracle and dampen the impact the revelation would have. She had seen Miranda tear through the inevitable before, Andy had learnt the hard way not to underestimate her.

Drewry had moved his attention away from Andy, eating up the praises offered him like a child in a chocolate factory and The Video, which much like The Book required capitals in Andy's mind, lay unattended on the desk adjacent to her own.

Feeling like a master criminal pulling off the job of her life, Andy stood with slow, calm movements that belayed nothing of the tension thrumming in her blood and pulled her bag out from beside her chair.

Still moving with careful steps, she walked around her desk and casually lifted the video from its partner's smooth surface. Stage one complete; Andy forced herself not to just sprint for the door, but instead to take precise steps around the backs of her, she supposed newly-former, colleagues and out the door unnoticed.

As soon as her feet hit the outer step, and she had never been gladder to work on the ground floor, Andy shoved the video into her bag, flipped her phone open, broke into the fastest run of her life and dialled a familiar number.

She was already two blocks away from _The Mirror_'s office by the time Emily's voice came on the line.

"Miranda Priestly's O–"

"Emily, it's Andy, I need to see Miranda now." She interrupted the first assistant as loudly as she could with her breaths coming in fast pants.

"Andy? _Andrea?_ Well you've certainly kept hold of the belief that you are something special. You were a pitiful assistant, and a great disappointment to us all, but you were never this dense. I would have remembered. But if you think you can just start barking orders at me and actually expect Miranda to see you, then my memory must have turned you into some sort of idealised copy of yourself."

Andy had used the time while Emily ranted to run the last three blocks until she had the Elias-Clarke building in her sights.

Pausing to take a much needed breath, Andy spoke into her phone with a sense of calm she definitely didn't feel.

"Em, I'm outside the building and I need to see Miranda now. It's important. Really important, like Hermes is out of scarves important." Emily remained silent. "You don't have to say it's me, or even tell her anyone's coming in, just keep her in her office for the next five minutes until I get there. Okay?"

There was a pause during which Andy dodged the lines of mid-morning traffic and ran into the entryway of the Publishing house, and then;

"This had better be good Andrea." Andy hung up almost before Emily, and it wasn't until she stood waiting impatiently for a lift to arrive that she realised she'd had no official way of getting access to the area. She sent an extra smile back to the security guard that seemed to have remembered her, if not that she didn't work there anymore, and told herself she would make sure to send him a thank you box of Krispy Kremes later. If she lived that long.

She was certain the elevator was taking particular delight in moving slower than usual and Andy paced around inside it like a tiger at the zoo, trying to organise her thoughts into some semblance of order. It wasn't easy. She felt like she'd consumed four extra shot lattes in the space of an hour, on an empty stomach. She expected to suffer a heart attack any minute now.

Everyone at _The Mirror_ would have noticed her and the video's absence, the lack of phone calls only attributed to the fact that she had left her work phone behind on her desk. It would annoy them, would limit just how much information they would be able to write, but it wouldn't be enough to stop anything. Too many people had seen it, and Andy didn't really doubt for a second that 'TeeDee' hadn't made a copy of the case before showing them all. She at least knew he hadn't made a copy of the film; he hadn't watched it yet after all.

The doors dinged open and Andy once again took up her hundred-metres-sprint pace, pelting down the corridors towards Miranda's office, ignoring the looks she received as she breezed past the various offices along the way.

Emily was standing by the entrance to the outer office, hands wringing in front of her and a wild look in her eyes. Andy stopped before her, hands on her thighs as she made a valiant attempt at catching her breath. She absently noted that her replacement must have been sent out on some errand, she wasn't sure if it was pity she felt, or jealousy.

"There you are. Do you have any idea the trouble you've caused with your little phone call? She was supposed to have a meeting with Patrick in ten minutes. I had to tell her he'd cancelled. She sent me to go fetch him myself."

Andy had finally straightened up again, and eyed the inner office doors warily. Now that she was here, it all seemed a little too real. She wondered if this was a nightmare and she'd wake up covered in sweat but safe in her bed. She pinched herself. No such luck.

"Em, trust me, she's going to want to hear this, and then Patrick is going to be the furthest from her mind." Andy stopped and thought. "But I could be wrong, so why don't you go out and pretend to be fetching Patrick, and I'll tell her what I've come to say, and she can't blame you for letting me in because you're not here." She accompanied the idea with a shooing motion and after a suspicious look, that had not a little relief in it, Emily complied. Tugging her coat on, the English woman caught Andy's eye before she left.

"This had better be good, Andrea. I will not miss out on Paris a second time because of you." And then she was gone.

Andy sucked in a deep breath, pulled the damned video from her bag and tried to act as though her legs weren't shaking so much she thought she might fall.

There was a small chance she remembered Miranda as worse than she really was. A very small chance. Oh hell, she was screwed.

Andy pushed open the unusually closed doors without knocking and was glad when Miranda didn't immediately look up. It gave her time to take in her first look at the older woman since that moment in the street six months earlier.

She looked amazing. Of course she did. If Andy hadn't seen for herself in that hotel room, she would think the woman had never looked anything _but_ amazing.

Miranda sat bent over a set of negatives, probably for the most recent photo shoot, peering intently through both her glasses and the small magnifying glass. Her hair was as perfectly coiffed as always, and from what Andy could see, she wore a black striped skirt suit, most likely _Bill Blass_ as Miranda's preferred designer for such things, and a well cut white silk shirt that ended nicely in a V that, at the angle Miranda was bent, left just enough to the imagination. Not that Andy was imagining. Not right then, she had far too many other things on her mind.

Just as Andy contemplated making a noise to announce her presence, Miranda spoke without looking up.

"Emily, I assume you have a perfectly good reason for your presence here and not at Patrick's loft?" The voice was the same, soft, sharp and deadly. Andy hadn't realised how much she'd missed it. No one did quiet rage like Miranda.

"Hello Miranda." The reaction to Andy's voice was instantaneous. Miranda's head shot up faster than Andy had ever seen the woman move, the action obviously reflexive and not carefully planned. Blue eyes locked onto Andy's seemed to drill right through to her soul. She shivered slightly. _Those eyes._

"You." One word, ten types of anger.

"Erm. Yeah, I mean, yes." Miranda placed the magnifier on the desk without breaking eye contact with Andy, and then reached up and removed her glasses. The sensation of falling without a rope seized Andy as she stared helplessly into those eyes.

"What are you doing here, An-dray-ah? You no longer work here, you have no friends here and your little paper has not sent you here to interview anyone." The unspoken; _'you don't belong here'_ was more obvious than it had been her very first day as second assistant.

Andy pushed off the mixed feelings that had clogged her mind since entering the office, not helped by the way her body responded to the sound of her name spoken so uniquely by Miranda. Taking the few steps to bring her up close to the desk and the woman behind it, Andy reached across and placed the video, front cover facing up, on top of the black and white photographs, not moving her gaze away from Miranda's.

The moment finally broke and Miranda lowered her eyes to the video. Andy watched with no pleasure as Miranda paled behind her make-up, quite a shocking sight in someone with such white skin already. One hand reached out shakily to turn the video over and flew up to Miranda's mouth with a gasp as that picture was revealed. Miranda's breathing speed up until she was almost panting her entire body trembling with an emotion Andy couldn't name. She could guess, but it was likely more than just one emotion.

After what seemed like hours, Miranda raised her head, eyes not quite meeting Andy's and took her hand away from her mouth, just enough to speak. Her voice sounded rough, and not nearly as steady as she probably wished it to be.

"What do you want?" The tone was biting, accusing but the blue eyes, when they finally met her own, were pleading and vulnerable. For the second time that morning, Andy was stunned into silence.


	2. Chapter 2

Andy stared in a way she was sure looked more like gaping.

"What? I–" Andy stumbled over her words, which wasn't surprising since she had no idea what she wanted to say, and was still stuck on Miranda's open eyes. It was something she hadn't seen before, even that night in Paris, Miranda had pulled some of her shields around her, however shaky they had been.

But the hesitation had given Miranda enough time to compose herself, the shock over to be dealt with later, and walls visibly slammed down behind the Editor's eyes. Her expression changed to calculating and she looked at Andy with a coldness she had only ever seen directed towards Irv during his attempted usurpation.

"What. Do. You. Want?" It was a tone that brooked no argument, that told Andy she had better lay her terms out soon or she might not live to have then tomorrow. Except Andy had no terms and could only shake her head.

"N-Nothing. Miranda, I don't–" But she wasn't allowed to finish before a bitter mocking laugh reached her ears.

Miranda stood and walked around to the side of her desk.

"Nonsense, everyone has a price Andrea. You're obviously here for something. You could have just run with the morning print and I'd have found out with everyone else. But you aren't; you're here giving me, what? A warning? What is this going to cost me to keep quiet?"

Even as she recovered herself enough to respond, Andy felt a surge of, not pity, perhaps pain for the older woman. Andy had the irrational wish that she had let Ted chose his assignment and been stuck with the Thrift Store herself.

"Miranda. I don't want anything. But I can't stop this–" Again she was cut off by the sound of that terrible laugh. Andy absently wondered what Miranda's real laugh sounded like, she was sure she'd never heard it in all her time working at _Runway._

"You can't or you won't, Andrea? Is this revenge of some sort? Wasn't leaving me without an assistant in Paris, with no warning I'll remind you, enough? Don't even think about telling me as a journalist you have to reveal a story when you have it. This kind of story is beneath even _The Mirror_ and it is most certainly beneath you." Miranda had begun pacing beside her desk, she ran a hand through her hair and chewed on her lower lip. It was the most flustered Andy had seen Miranda get.

"Miranda, I _can't_. I don't want anything from you, but I can't stop this story from breaking." Miranda looked ready to interrupt again. So in desperation, Andy almost shouted. "Dammit, Miranda! Don't you think I'd have already forgotten it, if it were up to me? This isn't my scoop and warning you is the only thing I could think to do. Well, that, and stealing the video as I left." The last was mumbled beneath her breath. Of course, Miranda had extremely good ears.

"You _stole_ that from your own newspaper? Why?" The tone was still sharp, but something else was starting to slip in.

"No one has watched it. I thought, I don't know what I thought, but without it they're at least limited in what they can print."

"Yes, that's true, not much, but it will also affect the validity of their claims, without the evidence to back the story up. But I wasn't asking why you stole it, but why _you_ stole it. If your ridiculous protestations are to be believed, what do you hope to gain from this?"

_Confusion_; that was the new emotion. It didn't look nearly as good on Miranda as Andy thought it would. The other woman was clearly designed to always carry that omnipotent air about her. Anything else didn't suit half as well.

"Is it so hard for you to believe that I'm only doing this for you? Without any personal benefits in sight?" But of course it would be hard for Miranda to accept. In all her time as assistant, Andy had never once had to organise around lunches or dinners for Miranda with friends, real friends. Miranda was surrounded only by people who wanted something from her, everyday, it was little wonder she didn't believe in altruistic motivations. "Look, I just wanted to make sure you knew about this before the whole of New York, okay? I don't want anything from you, although I've probably lost my job, so a second reference would be splendid."

The weak joke fell flat, but Miranda was staring at her as though she were the newest James Holt centre piece, and Andy suspected that any minute now Miranda would purse her lips and Andy would be thrown away like yesterday's trash. It was more disconcerting to be under that evaluating gaze than the calculating one. Andy really hoped she wouldn't fail. She wasn't ready, yet, to consider why.

"It's nice to know your loyalty remains even if your taste and sense of good timing are still lacking." Which was as close to a 'thank you' as Andy hoped to get. It felt pretty good. She practically glowed, causing Miranda to roll her eyes before snapping her mind back into focus.

"I'm going to need to contact Leslie and try to limit the impact of this, Irv will, no, he won't need to know before. The girls, I'll need them brought here after school so they can be told." Then in a voice so impossibly quiet it almost didn't exist. "How am I going to tell the girls?" It was as Andy tried to not answer that question that she realised she'd pulled her notebook out as Miranda spoke and written out the woman's nstructions. She wished she were more surprised by the reflexive actions.

Miranda had stopped pacing and was watching Andy again.

"What are you doing?" She waved a lazy, but innately graceful, hand towards Andy's notebook, and the young journalist felt her face warm.

"I have no idea. Sorry, I guess it's still habit."

That didn't remove Miranda's gaze.

"You do know you no longer have to do this, don't you?" Andy wasn't sure which 'this' Miranda was referring to, but it didn't seem to matter much, her body had obviously determined some time ago just what she would still have to do for Miranda.

"I know, but..." Andy shrugged and tried for a laugh, it came out distorted. "I don't have anything else to do, and someone is going to have to make some of these calls. And Emily and the new 'me' are out."

Miranda titled her head to the side, her expression was indecipherable. Then she nodded and returned to her pacing.

"I'm absolutely certain that's the only copy of this, except for the one Steph–" Miranda stopped talking abruptly. Her eyes flew to Andy's wide with realisation. "He wouldn't." But it was more question than statement.

Andy was remembering the divorce splashed across the tabloids; Stephen had not come out of that marriage well, he'd received none of Miranda's money and almost all the blame. She also remembered the tears in Miranda's eyes the night the divorce had started, Stephen had deserved some of that at least. But it had been ugly and messy and definitely not the outcome Stephen must have been hoping for all. Which made Andy believe that Stephen just might.

"I'll kill him." The low growl set Andy's body on alert, nerves alight and hair standing on end. And a throbbing began somewhere she absolutely denied. "If he thinks the divorce was bad, I'll tear him apart until even the Middle East wouldn't want him for target practice."

Andy believed her. She almost felt sorry for Stephen, or she would have, if this hadn't been a petty low blow. The actions of a coward.

"Who is the reporter for this?"

"Ted Drewry." Andy answered before she could think about what she was doing. Then she noticed Miranda's calculating expression. "Miranda, he's just doing his job." Even if he had taken an unholy level of glee in it. "What are you going to do to him?" Andy had visions of Paris, followed quickly by Miranda in leather whipping TeeDee while he begged her to stop, the throbbing increased. With a jerk, Andy shook the last image out of her head.

Miranda was watching her with what, on anyone else, could have been considered amusement. Andy had the sudden and terrifying thought that Miranda could read minds.

"Whatever you're thinking, I'm sure it'll be worse. This man thinks he has the right to judge my life and put it up on display for all to see? Oh no, he'll have his one moment and then I'll see him crushed until his only opportunity for writing is creating the inserts for Hallmark cards." And all at once, Andy was reminded why her own recommendation had been such a miracle. Miranda could be vicious when she felt slighted.

There really wasn't anything Andy could say that would change Miranda's mind, so she stayed quiet and made more notes as Miranda laid out her plans.

The throbbing didn't abate despite Andy's best efforts, and it only increased when Miranda stepped in front of the windows; the mid-day sun silhouetting her and making her skin and hair glow ethereally. Andy was being reminded of all those secret reasons that leaving _Runway_ had been both the best idea and the worst.

The journalist in Andy wanted to know more, wanted the story that would never make it into the papers, the real reason that Miranda Priestly would have performed in a Porno. No matter how many years ago it had been.

As the list of instructions that weren't quite orders, finally ended, Miranda looked at Andy again with that same expression Andy couldn't name. She seemed to be considering something, and Andy readied her pen again.

"You want to know why I did it."

"No! I... No–" Caught off guard, Andy stuttered.

Miranda laughed, lighter than before, but Andy suspected it still wasn't real.

"An-dray-ah, your eyes are practically overflowing with them. This, what you've done for me, are doing for me, it, I…you can ask your questions, I might answer." Her eyes hardened. "Off the record of course."

"Of course." Andy replied automatically, and then realised just what a gift she was being granted. It was unheard of. Miranda Priestly did not explain herself. And no one asked her to. It just wasn't done, everyone knew that.

Miranda's lip curled up slightly and she sat down behind her desk again, indicating Andy do the same on the other side.

Andy made a show of putting her notebook and pen to the side, closed and lidded before taking the offered seat.

"Okay, I guess, um." Andy stalled; usually interviews weren't this off the cuff, how was she going to make sure her questions weren't badly structured and idiotic if she didn't have time to prepare. Miranda began to look impatient and Andy blurted out the first question that came into her head. "Why? I mean, um, why did you do it?"

"Because at the time I thought I had to." Right, so Miranda had been about as impressed with the question as Andy was.

"At the time? What were the circumstances around your decision, the mitigating factors?" Miranda's eyes gleamed, Andy hoped it was in approval.

"I had been in New York for almost three years, I'd just gotten married for the first time and I needed the money." Miranda stopped and considered the space beside Andy's left ear. "I moved to New York when I was seventeen, fresh out of school and barely anything to my name. I was in my second year of studying design at College when I met my first Husband. He was training to be a Doctor." Miranda's expression turned reflective.

"After we married, I'd completed my degree but he was still studying. I was working in a factory, hand sewing off the rack clothing and writing freelance for small fashion magazines when I had the chance. But I was carrying us both and it wasn't enough to keep us going for long. David's parents had little more money than we did, and my parents, there was a reason I moved away so young." Her mouth tightened almost imperceptibly. Andy noticed, but then, that was most likely because she couldn't seem to stop staring at the woman.

"We were struggling to get by, and the financial problems were escalating, and then one day someone approached me in the street. They said I was perfect for a part in _that_ movie." Miranda glared at the video that sat oh so innocently on her desk. "He gave me a business card and I nearly forgot all about him. But things got worse, David needed to buy equipment that we couldn't afford and the bills just kept on coming. So I found that card, and I accepted the offer.

"It was stupid. Probably the most reckless thing I have ever done in my life. I had no idea what the film was about, or what I would have to do, but I was ready to sign the contract right there on the spot. It could have been something far worse than it was. But I was desperate. If I had known where I'd be in thirty years time, I wouldn't have…but I did and the money helped for a little while."

Miranda stopped, her eyes lowered and hooded. Andy waited, but when nothing else was forthcoming, Andy cleared her throat.

"And then? You said you knew this was the only copy…" Andy left the question hanging. Miranda seemed in a particularly revealing mood, and it looked best if she just let her decide the direction of the..._conversation?_

"I got a break, years after David was gone, and I knew that moment of idiocy would come back to haunt me. I learnt how small a number of those videos existed and I bought them all. Every one. At ridiculous prices, but I had no choice. I wanted to avoid _this._" Miranda waved a hand in a sweeping motion that was meant to incorporate the situation she was now in. "I burnt them, all except this one." Andy was almost certain it was a blush that had suddenly lit Miranda's cheeks.

"It was supposed to be a reminder of who I had been, and how careful I needed to be in future. But Stephen found it, and..." She gulped, Andy watched the movement of her throat as she swallowed. "He liked it, so I let him have it. I was, even then I couldn't see that he would be like the others." Miranda's voice dropped to be barely there again. "He wasn't supposed to leave."

Something twisted in Andy's chest and she had the irrational urge to hug Miranda.

Instead, she reached across the desk and placed her hand atop Miranda's, where they had interlaced during her story.

"We'll deal with it." Andy didn't question her sudden transition into the collective. Miranda moved her gaze from the desk to their hands to Andy's eyes and the pleading look was back. The thing in Andy's chest twisted tighter. "We'll deal with it."

Miranda was still, staring deep into Andy's eyes, and then she took a deep breath, released it slowly and nodded. Once.

Andy squeezed her hands and nodded back. _They'd deal with it._

 

***

Two Years Later

 

Andy stared at the object in her hand, her heart thudding and disbelief colouring her thoughts. She'd only been looking for Miranda's spare set of skis. Her latest assignment probably wouldn't leave much time for skiing but you never knew, and Andy did so love the Alps. Of course most of those memories hadn't involved skiing, but still, the place held a certain place in her heart.

She hadn't found the skis however; instead as she'd shifted a large brown box from the closet's top shelf, a videotape had fallen and smacked her sharply on the head.

The same video she now held in her shaking hand. The same video Miranda had told her she'd burnt a year and a half ago when Andy had finally worked up the nerve to ask for a private showing.

The front door opened and snicked shut again, heels clattered across the entryway and after a moments hesitation, lightly thudded up the stairs. Andy didn't pay the sounds much mind, her brain still focused on what she held.

"Andrea?" Miranda's voice called out from just behind her, and Andy turned automatically at the sound, kissing Miranda's cheek in greeting, eyes never straying from the video.

Andy knew the moment Miranda noticed what held her so enthralled; the older woman hissed in a sharp breath and then released it in a resigned sigh.

Andy finally tore her eyes away from the never forgotten picture and looked at the older but no less perfect image before her. Miranda stayed silent, blinking calmly, her body stiff with tension only Andy would probably notice.

"You said you'd burnt this." Andy watched in surprise as Miranda blushed. Even after all this time, Andy was still finding herself surprised by the Miranda only she and the girls got to see.

"I was going to. I almost did, but I couldn't, so I put it away up here."

"You didn't want me to find it." Not a question. "Why?"

Miranda paused and rocked a little on her heels. "I couldn't get rid of it, but I didn't want to think about it, and I knew you'd..." She drifted back into silence.

"I want to watch it." Andy said, without hesitation.

Miranda dragged both hands down her face, and then pinched the bridge of her nose. "Of course you do, and here we have the obvious reason for wanting to keep the thing hidden." Miranda's words were told almost entirely to empty space, Andy having started walking towards the TV room the moment she closed her own mouth.

Andy suspected Miranda knew it would be impossible to stop her, since the older woman simply sat primly at one end of the large sofa her face still. Andy's eyes sparkled as she sat close beside her, and pressed play.

 

An hour and a half later, tousled, naked and skin shimmering with sweat, Andy looked over at an equally naked and more thoroughly flushed Miranda. She had only one question.

"Did they let you keep that costume?"

 

**End.**


End file.
